Of Earth and Sky
by Bolinlover123
Summary: A series of Bolin/ Opal one-shots. "For nothing went so well together, as did the earth and sky."
1. Earth and Sky

_I will bruise your lips, and scar your knees and love you too hard._

_I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible._

_And when I leave, you will finally understand, why storms are named after people._

_- M. K. Katrina (via surbeat)_

_._

* * *

She saw right through him.

Opal, in the few weeks that she had gotten know him, found to conclude his personality as a front. A role that no one other than an a successful actor could play. No one could act that naive and childish and_ happy_ all the time- not with his past. Not with the inferiority complex and the self-criticism just floating underneath. She saw his regrets and loneliness, compensated for humor and rants that died off with little quips about mustaches, muscles, and the like... , and she wanted to push that top layer off of him with her wind, to give way to the real him underneath.

She become fascinated with seeing glimpses of the man underneath the boy, and she constantly watched him out of the corner of her eye, looking for the signs of the person within him. She quickly discovered that he was always giving hints into himself; subtle moments where the real Bolin was exposed like a break in a stormy batch of clouds, and it was in these moments where she knew she couldn't give up on him. She had to know more.

_"But, just stop trying so hard. Just be yourself."_

Opal was well aware of what is was like to be invisible. A granddaughter of a legend; and she was tucked away under the shining stars of her mother and brothers whose talents and personalities shook the very earth. A thorn in a garden of roses, and her books called to bring her comfort. If she couldn't bend, couldn't have great abilities, then she would read and study and fill her mind with thoughts that no one else could comprehend. Her books were her friends; and so she let only the pages know her name when everyone else moved around her like she was none other than the very air. Essential, yet unable to be seen.

_"Opal? That's a beautiful name."_

So, yes, she understood him. And she was going to make him see that.

Yet, he was so adept at playing the happy-go-lucky fool, that it stayed the primary focus of his being, and his public self- the only side he let anyone see. But that day he had tried to metalbend, the self-doubt was so palpable she would almost _taste_ it- taste it like the wind carrying it to her as it rested on her tongue; sour; ashy, dry- and she saw lighting-quick glimpses of a man hiding behind the guise of a boy.

It was then that she let him know once again; he didn't have to pretend with her.

_"You're acting weird again."_

His worry and fear for her at the her going away dinner that last night back home, had been so strong, she had nearly dragged him back into her room afterwards-demanding to know why he was still so afraid, needing him to come with her-_because she couldn't to this __alone_- and sweet, Agni...

The urge to kiss him then had nearly stolen the breath from her very lungs. She wanted to graze her lips on his, play with his tongue, and read the stories of his past by the scars on his back and the callouses on his hands. What warmth his arms would give her as they held her tight. But...

"Good bye, Bolin. I'll see you soon."

"You, too, Opal. Stay safe."

And in another second, the real him was gone- maybe because his brother was there, maybe because of everyone in the mist of the courtyard saying farewells- and back to hiding behind someone silly and strange.

Their eyes had met then; her face turning to him, just before the doors to the airship had closed behind her. She had silently asked him one last time. Opal had detected the air shifting, at the slight shake of his head. Emerald eyes bore into grass: _I'll stop pretending when you stop._

She had hidden her hurt, then, as she gripped her suitcase. She had made little giggle and smiled, waving through the glass of the ship.

_Come with me,_ her eyes pleaded, _I'm scared to do this without you._

He waved back with a smile, just like the rest of them. Never letting anyone be the wiser, because...

_"Maybe I am scared, but what about you? I know you want to go to the Air Temple to train with Tenzin, but you haven't done it because you're scared, too."_

She never stated for the two of them to be anything but the same.

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**Hey everyone. :) This is my first of a hopefully longggg list of canon one-shots about my newest ship. Please let me know what you think.**

**Prompt requests are welcome. Just let me know your penname, and tell me what you'd want me to write. Please make it short, though. No guarantees, but I will try to please everyone. Thanks again. **


	2. Dance for the Stars

_{Kiss the stars with_

_ me, _

_and dread the wait for, _

_stupid calls returning us to life}_

_._

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**Note: this particular chapter is part of another set of one-shots I did in my story 'Even the Best Fall Down Sometimes', where Bolin is dealing with some other non-canon circumstances. Thus, he may seem a bit OCC at the end. ;) That being said, I was feeling very Bopal-ish. Please tell me what'cha think.**

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Twilight tempting its desires of darkness upon the world; love, ribboned across the autumn sky in purple and yellow, before it says goodnight once more for secret keeping.

Fleeting reflections of warmth shimmer in their eyes as the painting's colors grow dim on the sky-canvas, then fade away, giving life to the stars.

"_It's coming,"_ Opal whispers, "I can't wait. I'm too afraid to blink."

They are staring up at the sky, in the middle of Air Temple Island, by the spinning gates; backs pressed so hard against the concrete, that he thinks they might mold into it. He watches her bite her lip in awe; the way she tries to remain calm when she is so_ existed. _She brushes her hair behind her ears once more, and Bolin thinks that this may be the right time to tell her-maybe the_ only_ right time to ever tell her how he feels.

"...O-opal, I-"

"Shh!" She giggles. "Seven seconds!"

But the seconds are counting down and Bolin feels the air go _still_ in a way where not even the hairs on his nose move. Like the whole world has stopped in wait for this moment, and one breath may shatter it.

Everything is dark, and still and _silent._

Then the sky explodes in a network of lights racing against each other. The stars shoot from one end of the world, to the other in a second, hundreds of trails in their wake...

They say that anything is possible during a meteor shower. That if you look at the stars hard enough, and don't lose their trail, they will answer all your questions, and tell you all that there is to know.

"Opal..." He looks at her face, reflecting the light from the bursting sky in her green eyes, and back to the sky once more. _Show me,_ he begs the heavens, _tell me how. What do I do?_ _What is my purpose? How do I tell her-?_

"Bo!"

She points to the _Aurora Borealis, _and he believes, if she tries hard enough, she can poke a hole in the sky and become the air, become a star herself, shining upon the world. The sparkle in her eyes gives him the image of her bending the very energy, and floating above him in all her glory.

The stars whisper stories to them as they lay in the empty Island, forever warm in the world seemingly belonging only to them.

"Spirits, Bo, they're _beautiful."_

For the first time, his eyes see stars, that are not only balls of energy; but, vast possibilities looking down upon him, instead of the gray fog of pollution and the angry angles of roof tops that constrict and condemn.

And he sees everything like he's never seen anything before.

Unlike the City, full of loss and the dead left behind; this place-this paradise- with her is _alive._

"When I was little," she tells him, "my brothers and I would sneak out of the city and go to this spot that nobody really knew about. Or, at least that's what I liked to think. That it belonged to us. This hill you could see everything from. We used to lay out there and watch the stars for hours..."

The Spirits are with them as they lay, invisible to his eyes, but not his_ heart_; swirling around, past his ears, speaking truth and comfort.

The puffs of air that escape his mouth, fade away like worries; he is_ infinite_, and _trivial_ at the same time, and he contemplates how that can be. He is a speak in this vast white, as all of history's fire-flies reflect down at him with their splendor.

But he has never felt so _purposeful_, so _boundless _and_ serene..._

The silence speaks for them, as she turns her head and smiles at him; she understands.

And he nods, too, because he understands, too._ Finally_ understands. It doesn't matter how many piles of trash he slept in, or what the Triads made him do, or how many shots he won at Probending. His past does not define him.

It does not matter that he can no longer bend; she does not pity him for his loss of his arm.

Suddenly nothing matters. Nothing. Not his mangled stump of an arm, or how to make Mako proud of him, or even how to deserve this wonderful girl next to him.

Because he _knows._

Everything is dancing, dancing with life.

His eyes are wet and he searches for her hand with his five fingers, never daring to move his gaze from these beauty-filled speaks that dot the heavens.

Everything is dancing; his _soul_ is dancing.

"I told you that you would love the stars, Bo." she breathes.

He can only nod trough his teary vision, and wonders if _they_ can see him, because he thinks he can see _them_, too.

He wonders what it feels like to become a star when you leave, or if it only happens to some people, and he hopes one day he can shine just as bright.

"Did you ask them," he hears her whisper. Her breath is hot in his ear.

He nods, afraid to speak.

"And what did they tell you?"

He now brings his gaze to her, his one hand, reaching out to stroke his face.

"That everything," he smiles with tears, "is gonna be okay."

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_Please review_


	3. Prompts

Hey everyone! I am in a very Bopal mood, especially after the first episode of Book 4!

Feel free to send me prompts and I'll try to get them done this week :)


	4. Yours and Mine

_Note: from here on out, one-shots will take place after book 3, and before/ and or during book 4. Bolin and Opal are 19/20 with the three-year time skip. Will be semi-cannon. Prompts are always welcome :) Enjoy and please review._

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**Tea- **Despite her relentless reminding him of the unnecessary commute across town to get to _Iroh's Tea Shop , _she finds him coming home late one night from work, a bag of doughnuts in hand, and two Vanilla Chi Teas still steaming. _We life on Air Temple Island _she would say, _we have more than enough tea to go around. _As to which he would reply, _you said you liked it, so you deserve it. Besides, it's an old Earth Kingdom tradition. Bringing tea to the loveliest girl in the world. _She would snort after of moment of thinking, _No, it's not. _Then he'd say_, Let's make it our tradition. _That earned him a kiss._ Can't argue with that, now can I?_

**Youth-** It's only after he comes home late one night and explains in a pinched-voiced, flickering-eyed swell of emotions, how eerily similar the ember in the dead homeless boy's eyes looked like Mako's as they pulled the tarp over him in the alley, does she see the lost little six-year-old in him for the first time, and begins to distinguish the real smiles, from the Fake ones. _"...and some have greatness thrust upon them" _she recalls the quote from her many collections of books. But only then do her books and reality start to blur together. Opal learns to appreciate him even more after that night.

**Lilacs- **No matter how many times he claimed to never have even seen the flower in his perilous years, she would always rub her nose in his hair and state that she loved how the soft, sweet smell of Lilacs always lingered on him.

**Scars-** It's the first time she sees the white of his bare back-all callused skin, and red, puffy scars lining the soft tissue of his shoulder blades- does she know he's suffered much more than any child should ever have to, and makes a promise to never let him hurt again.

**Heat-** He laughs as she huffs another sweaty breath, hair all mussed and frizzy in the relentless July sun, tongue so sticky from her ice cream that it has turned blue, and mumbles something about stupid heatwaves and burying him in a snow bank. He smiles, and pats her head, holding up two fingers for another round of ice-cold Litchi Juice. "_You know, it might help if you weren't so...hot." _he tries, with a smug look. She raises a brow._ Just saying...'cause you're really, really, pretty, you know that, right?" _He gets a face full of wind whipping his hair back and spraying his juice all over his shirt. The next thing he hears is a splash from the bay, and _"Get in here, you dork!" _He laughs, already taking of his shoes, knowing there is no way he is staying dry today. _Whatever you say, m'lady._

**Cravings-**He never could understand her enjoyment out of stuffing things in his face, no matter how cute she claimed his nose to be when scrunched up. Or even more so, her seemingly obsessive cravings for kale, but he always made a point to buy some whenever he was at the store, lest he be fed the gross stuff by the afternoon.

**Legacy- **He's spent too many nights, in his opinion, comforting her tears as she cries for being a bad airbender, a shadow to her family, a disappointment to her parents. It makes him wish, if just for a moment, he could go and ask the legendary Toph Beifong to give her granddaughter some advice and love; anything to make her tears stop and the confidence that she shows the world, to be real.

**Love-**He always whispers those three little words to her whenever he can; it's ingrained in him from always saying it to his big brother: especially in younger years when that seemed all he had time to say to the elder boy before Mako would come back from hours working and it would be too dark to see their hands in front of their faces. But he knows that to her, actions speak louder than words, and she finds his love and comfort in the little things that make up hand touches and rubs through hair, and the wetness of lips. _She_ knows, however, he just needs another person than his brother to say it to, so she limits the phrase to about _five times_ on a good day.

..

.

..

* * *

_Will continue with this style if you guys like it._


	5. Love and War

_This is how I imagine canon happening, after Bo defects from Kuvira and helps everyone, and apologizes. After he makes up and Opal and him are good again, I imagine the pressures of war and the desperation to never loose each other again- because I've heard rumors that some bad stuff is gonna happen-that they'd want to cherish what they have and take the next step in their relationship..._

_I hope this makes sense. It's my headcannon, anyway. Please review! :)_

* * *

This moment is nothing like he dreamt it would be.

It is nothing like how the Traids described it: the gangsters draping lacy underthings from their yellow fingers, with greasy smiles and coiled lips. Yuans passed, and high laughter accompanied with cactus juice and beer in dark corners of HQ, girls in short robes gaining kisses and rough touches from men with beady eyes and putrid breath, and groupy hands. Legs tangled under tables until sunrise; words and phrases that a young Mako told his even younger self never to repeat.

He knows he romanticizes a lot; but honestly he's wondering if people are all liars, or that they just get too fucked up in the moment to care.

His mother and father's voices, long forgotten, creep up on him during the strangest times. Now, though, his father's smooth voice whispers in his ear: _when you meet a girl, son, you have to treat her like the jewel she is. When you find the right one, you'll know._

_But, Daddy, girls are icky._

_Oh, my little buddy, you won't be thinking that way for long. Trust me on that._

He's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, and deciding would take far too much effort, so he lets the thought fall from his head like another drop of sweat crashing down to slide along the slope of her breasts.

He thought it would be in his own bed, at least. Somewhere where he can make the memory his own, and have her scent wash into his sheets. His illusions of candles and rose petals have long since fallen prey to cynicism, but he assumed that the first time he had sex, he wouldn't be this nervous.

_She_ makes him nervous, in all the right ways.

They had all but pulled each other into the dimly lit room, exchanging words for grunts and gasps. He tries to remember _his own_ name, and knows he truly is a monster that cannot be caged.

A younger him would have been a mumbling mess at even the thought of the 's' word, but now he just wants to grow old with her, and hear the sound of their one-day-when baby's laughter, and get a nice house that they can call home.

It started with a kiss, at least, desperate as it may have been; at least in that one thing, his expectations and reality coincide. But rather than the sweetness he hoped for, this kiss tasted of copper where she had bitten the inside of his check, and salt. The lavender from her shampoo is making an intoxicating cocktail for his nostrils.

In his perfect world, where they were not separated by war and duties, and the world turning to shit, this would all be planned out better. He remembers the past years in their relationship, where everything was so easy and pure: the nice dates, walking her hand and hand back to his place with some slow music playing on the radio and the comfort of his own sheets. It was all slow, gentle, romantic. Everything that the stories tell you about love, sugar-coating it with all the bows and sighs.

But now he can't lose her again. Not when war makes every second so fragile.

But in reality, he wishes, at least, that he had thought to bring a condom tonight. The blinking light sways above them back and forth from the ceiling in the little room they booked, casting ugly light and shadows unto their silhouettes. Bolin blinks, and she's still there, under him. This is really happening; not some dream. He hopes she's not a virgin, because that would make him feel even more sick with himself. (He's a virgin, too, and he wants this to be perfect for her) But then again, she's way too hot for this to be her first time, and she knows what she's doing-oh, _dear agni,_ she knows what she's doing. His sweet, innocent little Opal...

Her whispered exhortation of not to worry about it was sufficient enough for his adrenaline- addled mind at the time, and now, there is nothing from keeping them from feeling every inch of each other. It's so wet and hot, and _Spirits_, her breathing is so in synch with his.

They told each other, in all the years they've been together, that they'd wait. They'd wait for the right time, when they were older. No rush, take it slow.

Now, they can't stop.

And despite her whimpering pleas to go harder, faster, he does his best to control his pace, to not succumb to the temptation to send a hand between them and send her over the edge. He doesn't want this to be over so soon.

Because when it's over, it's really over. When she leaves, she'll go back to her family that is splintering at the seams, back to the Airbenders and righting wrongs, and he'll go back to...what? Kuvira is in jail, the Air Temple is full, and he can't go back to Mako. He has nothing now.

He will be gone before she wakes up, and never have to ruin her life again. He will not hurt her anymore than he already has. And it's not like she'll ever want to see him again after all the trouble he's caused with the 'Earth Empire' and Zaofu. It's safer this way, anyway. Staying apart. And, he guesses once she wakes up alone and puts the pieces together that he ran, she'll run to, back to the city. And he's not worth chasing after.

_"More..." _Her teeth nip his ear, and he's aware he's gone hard, and he breaths out slowly, making himself her canvas.

Her hands travel everywhere, and he lets her. After a while, they rest, and she brings her curious gaze down to his face.

And in that grimy, motel room, with dirt caked on every corner and probably bodily fluids of other lovers smeared and scrubbed off, she wouldn't have realized that it was supposed to mean anything special. That he was saying sorry for all he couldn't do for her.

"Why does it have to be our last?" she murmured, as if reading his mind, and her voice hitching as his lips wandered down towards the dark bruises he had left on her neck. "We've only just found each other again. Everything's just settling down. Come back to the City, to the Temple. I don't wanna leave you." She sounded pleading; pleading and desperate, and pathetic.

Her hand snakes along the inside of his thighs and he moans. He doesn't want to leave either, Spirits he doesn't want this to end. But he's not good for anyone. He'll only hurt her. She's too innocent, too pure-

"Opal..." He whispers. Her flushed face is looming above him; her short, cropped hair falling around her features like some kind of Spirit Goddess.

"Shhhh..."

She kissed him harder and let her right leg cross over his, his left finding a spot between her warm thighs as he realized, somehow for the first time, just how little there was between them. In the scattered moments they'd had alone like this, they had developed a kind of protocol. It involved kissing, which led to hands slowly but hungrily making their way under clothes. From time to time, one of them would blaze a trail to new patches of unexplored flesh, and they would add that to the list.

It was the first time he realized that, maybe, lists could mean something good.

No, they are together/ one. The bed is memorizing the shape of their bodies, the heat sticking the sheets together. Their breathes are making his mind dizzy, and her body's pressed against him like a cocoon. Her sweaty face looms above him, begging for him. He presses his lips into her's, gentle at first, afraid to break her( but this is Opal, and pity the fool who dares to call her anything but strong) then more firm when she grumbles low in her throat. She pushes into him, and a wonderful heat flushes his body. One of her hands is on his chest, right above his heart, and the other is tangled in his hair, scraping his scalp, holding him in place. He feels like an animal in a cage for all the wrong reasons, and only Opal can tame the monster that he has become; betrayal, lies. He's not who he used to be since working for the Earth Empire. He chases after redemption but finds her instead. She smirks, his lips two cherries parting to show her curious tongue.

His hands (for once he is unashamed of them) are on her slim, but firm waist and she squirms slightly as his fingers glide up and down her hips. He pulls back slightly, afraid.

"_Tickles." _She moans. "_More."_

He snorts and works his way under the uncharted territory of her shirt, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts. He looks up for a moment, as if to ask, _is this okay? _She just nods and closes her eyes, letting him explore her.

"_I want this_." she hisses, like everything she says are words from the mouth of a goddess, and he most obey. And they are. He is. "Go there with me."

"Spirits, Opal..." He breathes in, and let's himself go. He aware he's gone hard, and doesn't give a damn. Weeks ago, he'd have blushed and been a spluttering mess of gibberish after blowing raspberries on her stomach and hearing her giggles. Months ago, he'd have been too embarrassed to even touch a girl that way, let alone look at anywhere but her face. Now, he just doesn't want to lose this moment, _lose her_.

They've both changed. And not for the better.

His hands find smooth, flesh. He thinks how two such prominent, strong, life-giving wonders, can be so soft and sooth at the touch. As if their tenderness is a shield of some sort, and he is finally let in. He cups them both, smoothing his thumb over her nipples and she gasps in delight. She presses her mouth into his, like she's trying to steal his soul. Their tongues play for a bit, a game of cat and mouse, before she nips his ear, and he hisses. She kisses him on the neck, the jaw, his chest, making him as her own, as _each other._

"I'm never going to let you go," He tells her, "I promise."

"I love you so much, Bolin."

"I love you, too, Opal Beifong."


End file.
